When In Rome
by REDskies
Summary: Human AU. Antonio finally visits the country he's been lusting after, to be met by a wonderful,  though slightly grumpy, but hey, technicalities! , and very Italian, man.


**Title:** When In Rome  
**Rating: **K  
**Genre:** General fluff.  
**Characters/Pairings:** Antonio, Lovino | Antonio/the country Italy?  
**Summary:** Human AU. Antonio finally visits the country he's been lusting after, to be met by a wonderful, (though slightly grumpy, but hey, technicalities!), and_ very_ _Italian_, man.  
**Notes:** De-anon from the kinkmeme , _a love story between a human-shaped being and an actual country_.Technically, this goes against it by being slightly Antonio/Lovino-ish, but eh.

**When In Rome**

Antonio ran his hands over the smooth stone of the banisters, cataloguing every groove and bump beneath the pads of his fingers.

This too, he knows, with no little sense of wonder, is art. The art of simple things coming together, in granite, stone, colours and _time_, to form these weathered structures made beautiful by culture and history and these wonderful, wonderful _people_. He never liked art museums very much, being forced to keep his hands jammed into his pockets, trembling with the desire to just reach out and gently _feel_ that dried, ridged oil paint under his hand. But here, _here_, he could pretty much _molest_ these huge canvases of life to his heart's content.

It was all he could do to stop himself from kissing the steps right there and then.

But instead, he sat down right where he was, shuffling backwards a bit to face the steps, taking out his sketchbook and pencil. Five minutes into the sketch, his heart is positively bursting with all the details of the place, and he simply _cannot_ wipe the grin off his face. He happily gives up on it, caving into the desire to just sit and stare at Italy in all its beauty, to feel Italian soil beneath his hands, to _smell_ the scents of-

"Hey. HEY! IDIOT. Get out of the damn way, you're blocking the cart!"

Antonio laughed, grinning up at the man who yelled at him, still drunk on the high of actually _being here_. "I'm so sorry!" He grinned sheepishly, scrambling to tuck his sketchbook back into his bag. "I'm just so elated to- To finally be here! You're Italian, right? You live here? Your country is-" Restraint gone with his thoughts, he can't help but gather the Italian in a quick hug, filled with the ecstasy of the moment. Pulling back, he barely stopped himself from kissing his cheek.

"It is _beautiful_."

Mouth gaping, and a flush high on his cheeks, the Italian takes a few moments before he slaps the hands on his shoulders away. "Of course it's beautiful," he huffs, pushing the cart along a few more paces. "Anyone who can't see the beauty in the _Scalinata della Trinità dei Monti_, or _Italia_ itself is-"

"Is out of their mind!" Antonio cried, half mortified at the thought of someone not finding this country, which he has been in for all of one day, utterly beautiful. "Or blind! But even a blind man would find _Italia_ beautiful, wouldn't you think? I mean, it is not just the visuals which make up the place, but the smells and the sound and the _feel_ of the place, right?"

The other man looks at him somewhat strangely, before looking away, trying to hide a smile. "Yeah."

A few (awkwardly silent) steps later, the man turned to look at him, frowning. "Why are you following me?"

Antonio, coming to realise that he hasn't actually introduced himself, much less that he had been been following (however unintentionally), turned to grin at him again. "Oh! I'm sorry, it completely slipped my mind! I'm Antonio, it's so nice to meet you!"

"Lovino," the man says, eyeing him warily as he took Antonio's proffered hand. It wasn't every day that you'd have strange men come up to the guy who sold flowers, introducing themselves.

"Lovino! What a nice name," he grinned. "Do you need some help with that?" Antonio asked, gesturing towards the cart of flowers. "It looks heavy and you've been so nice to me already~ Or would you like to get a cup of coffee? Maybe at a café somewhere?"At the flush of Lovino's face, he waved his arms attempting to physically ward off the misunderstanding.

"I'm not ah, I don't know, some weird guy or anything, I'd just really _really_ love to hear more about Italy and ah, you seem like you would know this place really well," Antonio grinned, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. "Unless you're busy with-"

"_Yes_, actually, I have to stay here and-"

"_Fratello_!"

Both men turned towards the voice, a man which bore strikingly similar resemblance to Lovino, right down to the odd curl of his hair.

"_Ohhhhh_! Hello there!" He grinned, and that was where the resemblance, as far as Antonio could tell, with Lovino's almost-cutting remarks and scowl, ended. "Sorry to interrupt you, Lovino, but I can take over now. I promise I'll make up for this shift some time! You can go have fun now~ Oh! I'm Feliciano by the way, it's nice to meet you!" Antonio grinned as he waved to the other Italian. "Antonio, it's really nice to meet you too!"

"Wait, Feli-"

"So I'll be going!" Feliciano grinned, waving to the two of them, pushing the cart away before his brother could finish whatever he wanted to say.

Lovino rubbed at his temples, frowning. There went his chance at leaving.

"Look, I-" he looked up, back at Antonio who had been staring with the same kind of child-like innocence of a kid at the beach, at a plate of pasta on the tables of a nearby cafe.

_Oh god dammit._

"I know somewhere we could get _much_ better pasta," he sighed. 

They eventually come to a stop at a little family-restaurant in a far-flung street, far away from the bustle of the tourists at the Spanish Steps. Lovino orders, and this is where the education begins.

He talks of the _antipasto, primo, secondo_ and _dolce_, what constitutes a dinner and a breakfast, which wine should be served at which meal, and Antonio listens in rapture, a little too entranced with the timbre of his voice and the cant of his words to interrupt him with the fact that he's been obsessing about Italian culture for long enough to know all of this.

After the meal is done, and Antonio can still taste the lingering sweetness of that peach they had, Lovino continues to talk, with prompts from the Spaniard, as he idly sketches, a smile drifting to his face after the mention of something he finds particularly amusing or fun.

"And so the Spanish steps weren't actually built by the Spanish," he frowned, considering the facts in his mind, biting them out with no little distaste. "They were funded by some French bastard and- Oi, are you even listening?"

Antonio laughs again, his gaze briefly flicking up to meet Lovino's own heated stare, before drifting back down to the page of his sketchbook. "Yes! Of course I am. I'm just... Distracted. When you talk about the steps, I can just picture them in my mind and my hands _itch_ to draw," he grinned, tearing off the page.

"W-What! Why did you tear that out? Aren't you an artist or something? Idiot, don't tear out important things!"

Sliding the sketch over the table, Antonio realised that even after an entire afternoon and meal with this strangely wonderful _Italian_ man, they know little to nothing about each other. And for a second, he absurdly wishes that they could have spent a little less time talking about the Holy See or the intricate design of the _Ponte Vittorio Emanuele II_, and maybe a little more on how he's come to know all of this.

"It's for you!"

Lovino blinked, colour slowly seeping into his cheeks as he gingerly picked up the thick paper, looking at the sketch.

It was of the Spanish steps, crowded with masses of people. They were all smiling, laughing, or otherwise showing their outright happiness, except for one man, aside a cart of flowers, scowling down at another who was sitting down on the floor.

Antonio laughed nervously, rubbing at his neck. "I hope you don't mind that I sketched you like that but aha, that really was my first impression of you!"

A retort on the tip of his tongue, Lovino stopped himself as the other man stood up, taking out his wallet.

"W-Wait, where are you going?"

"Ah, off? I'm sorry to leave so suddenly! You see, I came here with two friends of mine, and they said to meet back at our hotel right about," he pushed back the cuff of his shirt, checking his watch. "Now. Heh. Francis wanted to go to Gucci and Gilbert _really_ didn't want come with me so..." Antonio laughed again, drawing out a few bills from his wallet. He _really_ wished he could stay longer, but the three of them had previously agreed that whoever came the last would pay for the drinks tonight.

Lovino stood up as well, frowning. "Okay. Er... Thank you for the lunch-"

"No, no!" Antonio flustered, waving away the thanks. "Thank _you_ for telling me so much about this wonderful place. I've always loved the Italian accent! I'm so sorry for taking up your afternoon!"

As he ran through the front doors, Lovino could hear him shout.

"YOU, YOUR COUNTRY, IT REALLY IS BEAUTIFUL!"

Lovino sank back into the chair, blushing as the waitress grinned at him knowingly, as she collected the dirty plates.

"_Ragazzo spagnolo_?"

Spluttering, Lovino managed to cough out a _no!_ as she left, laughing.

He rubbed absently at the small signature on the sketch, wishing that "Antonio" weren't such an absurdly common name, so that _maybe_ Google could pick something up about this strange, strange man who seemed to be in love with his country.

**Author's Notes:**  
- These are the Spanish Steps of Rome, Italy. And yes, they were funded for building by a Frenchman.  
- I swear there's a cart selling flowers in one of those pictures.  
- The waitress was saying "Spanish boyfriend?", if babelfish doesn't fail me.  
- AU! Obviously. I was tempted to write a half-AU, where Antonio was a human, and Romano was still the personification of Italy. But I feared it would be deviating the your prompt so... :l 


End file.
